


Under the Weeping Sky We Unite

by Ragga



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Ishbalan | Ishvalan, Because these two idiots don't give each other a chance to wallow, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, M/M, Post-Promised Day, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Revelations, The angst part is very short, Time to Let Go and Live, what can you do?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 23:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18158372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragga/pseuds/Ragga
Summary: It was over. The Promised Day had come and gone, the world saved from ending, and Al returned to his body. All was well, but there were still people who lingered in the aftermath. Maybe, just maybe, two of them could come together and find solace in each other.





	Under the Weeping Sky We Unite

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on a FMA kick for a while after a few years and since my WIP wasn't cooperating... Well. Why not take a shot at one of the worlds and characters I adore more than most? I hope the rest of you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Ed heard the rain before the first drops hit his skin. His eyes were closed, face turned towards the sky he knew was grey with everything it held within, and he waited for the healing touch to drown him in its gentle grasp.

It was over.

It was all over.

Al was perfect and right and _perfect_. His skin was real, no longer cold metal, and so soft to touch. The fact that he _could_ touch it blew Ed’s mind. Al’s hair was the same shade of blond as it had been in Ed’s memories and the photographs Winry and Granny kept on their wall; his eyes were the most precious jewelry in the world. _Al_ was the most precious thing in the world, and Ed would go to hell and back just so he could be him again, be _with_ him again, the way they used to before—before. He had visited the Gate far too many times, knew more than he should, and he never would again, had reached his limit, which he was grateful of.

He had seen enough worlds of endless white and sharp grins for a lifetime.

The rain washed over him. It was slightly cold, and it felt weird on his right arm. It was a weak arm, he thought, raising it towards the clouds, reaching for the tears that fell on him. The world was crying for them. The Promised Day was over. Al was back and whole and complete. Winry would be elated. She would probably cry too, just like the sky did. Or maybe it was weeping for them in her stead now, because she couldn’t.

He should probably call her. She would want to know how things turned out. Or maybe he could just wait until they eventually returned to Resembool. She’d know that things were fine anyway.

They shared the same sky.

He heard the door open behind him, and he let his hand drop down. It splashed a little, falling into a puddle that had begun forming next to him. Unhurried pace, one person, with light enough steps for Ed to know that this was a trained soldier, but they were still heavy, announcing his presence for the whole world—ready to take a step forward and forgoing any pretense at deference.

There was only one person who walked like that, with the world on his shoulders and determination to make it count.

“Fullmetal,” Mustang said. It was supposed to be a greeting, Ed thought, but it came out more of a statement. A small smile made its way to Ed’s lips, curving them. Drops slid down the lines.

“Not anymore,” he replied. He heard a huff and Mustang sat down with him. It had to be uncomfortable for him, the cold and heavy roof of the hospital. “I thought you’d be busy with the country down a Fuhrer or something.”

“Grumman’s taking care of things,” Mustang said. “I’ve been ordered to stand down for the moment; something about overworking myself.”

“ _You_? _Over_ working yourself?”

“My words exactly.”

Ed chuckled, and Mustang joined him. It should have felt weird, them laughing like this. Like they were friends or something. Were they? They had faced against the closest thing to a God on earth after all. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?

He opened his eyes slowly. His lids felt heavy, lashes clumpy and sticking to each other. Even though the world was grey and howling, it felt like a new day, a new age.

“Maybe they should send you to be useless somewhere. Maybe Youswell. They hate the military there.”

“That’s an idea.” Mustang didn’t even sound worried about it. “A holiday, even. Less paperwork. Heavenly. A pity Lieutenant would have to retire then; that’d be the real tragedy.”

“Maybe I should pitch in, send a message to the Fuhrer. Hawkeye probably needs some downtime herself.”

“You do that.”

Ed turned his head, finding Mustang already watching him. The man was dressed in his uniform, trousers and shirt bloody and littered with specks of dirt, his jacket casually thrown over his shoulders. He was already wet too, Ed noticed, with hair flat on his head and a five o’clock shadow on his pale cheeks. He should have looked ridiculous. He didn’t. Ed should be offended in the behalf of the world. He wasn’t.

He couldn’t find it himself to be mad right now. He could only feel the gentle shower cleansing the world of the nightmare that had been Father and his tainted brethren.

“You got your sight back.”

“And your eyes are gold,” Mustang said. Ed blinked.

“And this is news because…?” he trailed off. Mustang was being confusing again. Someone alert the press.

“Alphonse’s aren’t.”

Ed blinked again.

“Ah,” he said intelligently. He tilted his head back to the sky. So that’s what this was about. “So they aren’t.”

They sat in silence, listening to the pitter-patter of nature’s own dance.

“You never said anything.”

“No,” Ed agreed. “I didn’t. We didn’t think it was necessary.”

“Didn’t—” Mustang trailed off and now there was a hint of frustration in his voice, alongside a heavier dose of pain, self-disgust. “We killed your people.”

“I know.”

“I killed them. Burned them down, left _nothing_ to—”

“Mustang.”

Mustang fell silent. Ed leaned back, taking in the slumped shoulders and tracks of water sliding down his cheeks. It almost looked like Mustang was crying with the sky.

Ed sighed. “This is why we didn’t say anything.”

“Fullmetal?”

“Edward,” Ed corrected. “I’m not an alchemist anymore.”

“You’ll always be Fullmetal,” Mustang said stubbornly. Ed couldn’t help it. He laughed. Mustang didn’t seem to understand what was so funny this time.

Ed rubbed his eyes, still chuckling to himself. “Ouch,” he said. “Always going to be a pain in your ass, huh?”

“I didn’t—”

“I know,” he interrupted, cutting Mustang off before the mix of indignation and pain could get to him. “But that’s not changing the truth of it, does it?”

“Fullmetal—”

“I did hate you, once,” he tacked on. Mustang couldn’t hide his flinch. Ed didn’t like it. “Because mom used to cry late at night and even in Resembool we’d heard of the never-ending fires and shots that always hit the target. We were safe, yes, but mom’s family wasn’t, and when we never heard from them again—well. Yeah.”

Ed rolled his shoulders, thinking back. “Mom tried to hide it but with our useless dad leaving and the rumors she couldn’t. Al was too young to know or understand really, but I did. And when you recruited us, me, I could only see that circle.” Ed gestured at the gloves Mustang still had on. The hands they covered clenched into fists. He could imagine the knuckles were just as white as the gloves usually were.

“But, you know, there’s a desert legend that gets passed down with our people.” Mustang winced again but met Ed’s expectant look head on. They stared at each other and Ed dared Mustang to say something. He didn’t, only a stricken look was left behind on his face. “You want to hear it?”

Mustang didn’t look like he knew one way or another. No, he’d probably say something about not deserving it if Ed knew anything and he did know him, the bastard. Really, when had they become so familiar with each other?

Ed decided to take away Mustang’s decision, and said, “Our mother used to tell us how, at the beginning of time, there was nothing but dry land. People warred with each other to death, animals were dying one by one, and no one had ever seen a shade of green, didn’t even know what it looked like. Everyone was angry and mistrustful. There was nothing good in the world as the men had bled it until only dust was left before anything could even start.”

Ed lifted the hand he had gained back, spreading the fingers above him.

“When people hate, it only grows stronger; and the stronger it grows, the more people hate. It was a vicious cycle that no one knew how to break. No one knew each other’s names either, no one cared to know, and thus they were forgotten. The world wept for its children but there was no rain. Even that had been bled dry.”

The look in Mustang’s face was intense, his eyes more than most. Ed realized how they were actually a very dark shade of blue instead of the black he had always thought. Huh. Guess Mustang hadn’t been the only one mistaken.

“Yet a child was born to this world, this world of eternal chaos and night in the minds of men. The child grew up in the middle of all that hate, watching the sun grow darker each day. It left them sad to see everyone up at arms and destroying all the living things in their jealousy. People just took and took until there was nothing left to take.

“But this child did something no one had done in the years that had been. They gave. They gave the bread they had made from what they had salvaged, they gave until the only thing they owned were the rags on them. They gave until they had nothing else to give. And yet, the child still had something to give.”

Ed reached over and touched Mustang’s chest. The man startled, his eyes widening, but he didn’t remove his gaze from Ed’s.

“They loved every single person they saw, every single person that was. They smiled for each and every one of them even when all they gave them back was disdain. They gave and they gave and they gave until, for the first time, someone reciprocated. Someone gave them that smile they had been waiting for, that same kindness they had relentlessly been chasing after, because they knew that humanity wasn’t doomed. They knew that there lived a seed there, that there was something to hope for.

“The child cried for the first time in their life right then and there. And when they did, they cried for a day and a night, until their eyes turned red and then the sky started crying with them. People looked around in wonder, feeling the cleansing rain around them. It hit the ground beneath their feet and green blossomed from the cracks. They were overcome with joy again and they forgot the hatred they had felt behind them and they joined the child, weeping, as the world was born.”

A gentle smile spread on Ed’s face. The same look of wonder the legend told was etched on Mustang’s features.

“As they wept with the sky, leaving their grief behind and turning their face up in joy instead, the rain washed away the signs of weariness and the darkness that had taken hold of their hearts. Their eyes turned just as red as the child’s and their hair washed white as the sun came out bright and burned the darkness away. The only thing left to remind them of their past was the dark tint of their skin, the color of the dry ground and the desert sand.

“That child’s name was Ishvala. They rose above what was the shell of men and made them better. They gave hope to the world and in turn the world gave hope to them. And since then the Ishvalan people have burned their dead and cherished their names, lived with little and found joy in it, for when the sins have been burned and the names have been revealed, they can rise and be with Ishvala again and never lack for anything.”

The rain had started to die down as Edward regaled his tale under Mustang’s rapture. As he finally finished, the sun had started to shine down on them again.

“Look around,” he said and stood up. He offered Mustang his hand and watched as the man took it. They turned to watch the city wake up after the rainfall stopped, how the streets shone, and the world was lit like the most precious of metals.

“Beautiful,” Mustang muttered.

“We won, and now the rain has washed away the taint that was left behind.” Ed watched as a kid ran out the hospital doors, splashing on the puddles she found. Her mother tried to calm her down but, in the end, joined her in her little dance. “It’s the start of a new day.”

“A new era.”

“Exactly.”

Ed pulled his hand from Mustang’s, and the man looked startled as if he hadn’t realized he had still held it. Ed spread his arms, uncaring how soaked he was, and took in the warm rays.

“You asked why we never told you,” Ed said. Mustang nodded, still curious but now calmer than before. “It wasn’t that we didn’t think you deserved to know. I wanted to, just to see that stupid look on your face go away even once. But…” Ed cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

“Mom always said that hate spread more hate and if we wanted to be good to each other, we needed to let go ourselves. And then I saw how much you lot _tried_ , when Hawkeye told me about Ishval—I knew I wouldn’t. Because you would only hate yourself more and I couldn’t forgive myself if I did that to you too.” Ed paused, and then added, “Al would’ve hated me too. Selfish, I know.”

“You don’t know how to be selfish,” Mustang said quietly. Ed scowled.

“And that’s where you are wrong as always. Look at what started this all! Look at—well. I was always jealous of Al and mom’s eyes. And how Al’s hair was always a shade or two paler than mine. In the right light I could squint and match their colors. They had proof that they were part of the people who had cried for the world and the world had cried back for them. Mine?”

Ed scoffed. “Mine were from our father and he left. Gold like greed. We weren’t the most religious, Al and I—atheists, the both of us, or agnostic, I don’t know—but it still felt like to me that I had Hohenheim’s sins painted on my skin. Guess in some way I was right but what I was, am, happy about is that Al’s free of them, then and today.”

“If you are a sinner, then I am the devil himself,” Mustang said. Yet, this time, there was less of that self-loathing there and more of contemplative acceptance. “We need to be better. For all of us.”

There’s no way Ed would ever argue against that. “Yeah.”

“I already told Grumman I want the Ishvalan people to be made amends with. They have suffered too much under the hands of Amestris and Bradley.”

“He agreed?”

“He put me in charge of it.”

“I thought you wanted to be the Fuhrer?” Ed couldn’t help but ask. A small self-deprecating smile spread on Mustang’s face.

“I do,” he agreed. “But there are things more important, and we can’t make Amestris a democracy in one night. No one would sleep easy if I was suddenly thrown in their face. Too young with too much blood on his hands. If I ever tried to even hint towards it, they’d throw me out faster than I could spell my own name.”

“And Grumman’s a better choice?”

“He’s known to people as fair, if a little odd, and has the backing of both East and South. West is still busy with Creta and North with Drachma despite this mess, so Armstrong can’t turn her back on Briggs either at this point. We’ll battle it out between ourselves when things have calmed down and Grumman retires.”

“Guess that’s that then,” Ed said.

Mustang hummed in agreement. He leaned on the railing and watched over the now busy streets get even busier. “Are you going back to Resembool?”

Ed followed him, leaning on it himself, only he turned his back on it and watched the birds fly instead and the clouds rushing away to clean another part of this no longer rotting country.

“Yeah, soon. After Al’s in good enough shape to travel and I’ve turned in my watch.”

“Taking advantage of your funds for the last time?”

“Duh. What other use were they for anyway?”

“Brat.”

“Bastard.”

“You are calmer now,” Mustang said. “Or is it that you are no longer in a hurry to find the answers?”

Ed shrugged. “You saw Al,” he stated. Mustang nodded. “So you know the answer to that already.”

“Calmer,” Mustang echoed and something in his tone made Ed turn to him. That shark-like smirk made Ed immediately wary. “Almost… mature.”

“Mustang,” he warned. The grin widened.

“If only the rest of you had matured at the same pace.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT YOU CAN’T EVEN SEE HIM—”

Mustang burst into a delighted laugh even as Ed fumed, spitting sparks at the man.

“Fuck you, you old people are all the worst,” he muttered spitefully. Mustang abruptly stopped.

“I beg your pardon? _Old_? I’m barely thirty!”

“Old!” Ed repeated. “Soon we’ll be digging your grave!”

“Hey!”

“Be careful not to die of old age before you get a chance at that cozy little chair of yours!”

Mustang pretended to look outraged but there was a moment where their eyes met and they both had to look away lest they would have started laughing again. They had been hurtling abuse and name-calling each other so long it felt less like insults each and every time. No wonder Al had been so amused in the past year or so. He had always been sharper in these kinds of things than Ed. He was just a walking disaster in all things emotional.

He sighed.

“Call me Edward,” he said suddenly. Mustang paused in whatever he was doing, head whipping around to meet Ed’s. Ed blinked. There was something fragile in Mustang, like his heart was in Ed’s hands and so easy to break. Like Ed could throw it away and stomp on it and it would cease to be.

Since when had he had this much over the famed Flame Alchemist?

“Only if you call me Roy,” Mustang—Roy—said. Ed couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face even if he had wanted to. All of a sudden this seemed larger than life yet long time coming.

“Roy,” Ed said. The smile on Roy’s face rivalled the sun and Ed felt momentarily blinded.

“Edward.”

It was weird, the way his heart picked up its pace. Ed blinked once, twice, three times. There was warmth rushing to his cheeks and he quickly turned around as if something more interesting appeared in the horizon.

“Edward,” Roy tried again, tasting his name. Ed didn’t know why that suddenly felt so different; it wasn’t the first time he used his first name anyway, even if his title had been his favorite to use.

“Yeah yeah, just don’t wear it out,” he said, but his words felt rough in his mouth.

“Edward. Look at me.”

It wasn’t an order—Ed had never been particularly good at following them anyway—but Ed found himself following the plea anyway.

“What?” he asked gruffly. Roy’s smile was tamer now, less wide, but somehow more meaningful.

“The next year or so will be busy for the both of us. However, when you inevitably come around to Central again, please call me. I’d like to take you out for dinner that day.”

Ed’s eyes widened and he sputtered, gawking, feeling more and more like he had just been thrown into another dimension and met some other weird version of Roy Mustang there. This _couldn’t_ be the Bastard Colonel under whom he had been for years. This was… This was some Ray Moustache or something.

“Why?” he blurted out when he finally found out his voice again.

Roy shrugged. “Why not?” he questioned. “I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you otherwise, resigned from official duty and no longer on the pay list.”

Ed squinted at him and pointed his finger at that lying face that lies like a liar. “That’s bull if I ever heard any. You found your way to Resembool when I was a _kid_. No way I’ll buy that from you, not even for a cenz.”

“And I thought you might want to keep up with your investment as well,” Roy continued, oddly cheerful. His eyes were laughing at him, Ed thought, but the look in them wasn’t mocking. It was sort of… heavy.

Ed felt like squirming but forced himself to stay still.

“You said yourself that it’ll take you years until you get even a shoe in the door. I’ll hold onto that 520 cenz, thank you very much.”

“And about the rebuilding of Ishval; I’d have first-hand information on that too.”

“Well—well, you better!” Ed stammered. “You already promised!”

Roy stood straighter then, yet the expression didn’t leave his face. It was seriously doing something weird in Ed’s stomach. What the _fuck_ had he eaten earlier? Hospital food was bad, he knew, but it wasn’t supposed to make the people _sick_.

“You don’t have to,” Roy said. “But if you do… I promise my schedule will be clear.”

Ed swallowed. “You can’t promise that.”

“In a year or so? Yes, I can.”

In a year or so Ed would be— Ed felt the flush gather on his cheeks again. Roy gave him one of his trademarked smirks and then walked past him towards the door, leaving Ed staring after him. He had almost reached it when Ed’s traitorous mouth opened and his voice rang across the roof with a—

“I’ll call!”

Roy paused in his step but didn’t turn around. Ed was glad for that because he felt seriously overheated. The Bastard had done some of his temperature defying alchemy, Ed just knew it.

“I look forward to it,” Roy said, and he sounded like he meant it. The door clanked shut after him.

Ed stared at that same spot for a long time, up until he felt more like himself and less like a… like… like Winry had whacked his head with her wrench twice. He leaned back and watched the clear sky that was shades and shades brighter than the surprisingly warm blues he had just committed to memory—fuck, he really had, he could recall the exact tone of them—but somehow it felt far less magical.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the open world and, he realized, it really was that. Open. No longer shackled by his past mistakes, ready to mend and face the world and do something about the things he still found he couldn’t let go.

The rain may have washed him clean again but there were things he refused to forget and leave behind.

And—he turned around and watched as a man with dark hair and military blue uniform walked out the hospital and into a car that was waiting for him.

And perhaps there were things he wouldn’t mind finding in front of him either.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought of this if you have the time to spare :)


End file.
